


Clan

by EdilMayHampsen



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: All original characters are either kids of cannon characters or minor, Basically "How would they all be as parents but from the kids POV", Basically: Brain tumor got treated. He's okay. Read notes for more info on that, Family Fluff, Gerry has tuberous sclerosis, I did so much research about that guys, M/M, Not sorry?, There's lore to this AU but I don't explain it yet, This is meant to be a long fic, We all need to have fun rn, a tiny bit of angst, and I have plans for it, but I'm honestly just having fun, toothrotting fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:22:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26194093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdilMayHampsen/pseuds/EdilMayHampsen
Summary: clan/klan/nouna group of close-knit and interrelated families
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Other Minor Relationships
Kudos: 21





	Clan

**Author's Note:**

> TW for open discussion of and mild angst related to:  
> -transphobia  
> -cancer, I guess?  
> -epilepsy (I guess you could have trauma related to this? Idk)  
> -miscarriage  
> (its mostly just children being cute, but if you're especially sensitive to those this fic wont do you well)
> 
> SO! First things first, what the fuck did I do with the characters:  
> -They are all more mature  
> -(gerry is the same amount of mature)  
> -Fear entities exist, it isn't that big a deal though  
> -Gerry tuberous sclerosis, quick facts: He had the brain tumor, like cannon, it got treated, but is still affected by it. He has epilepsy which is discussed at length. I did a lot of research, both scientific articles, and first-hand accounts, but I do know have epilepsy, nor do I know anyone who does, TDLR: I am a shit source of information on this topic but I really tried  
> -Jon is non-binary. Not andro, masculine body-wide feminine dress-wise. I am manifesting shut up.  
> -Jon goes by "pams" Because it sound pretty gender-neutral to me!  
> -Tim, sasha, diasy, and basira are factors in this universe, but not in this chapter  
> -Agnes the baby is not agnes the lady. She is named after her  
> \- I don't explicitly say this, but HCs involved: Jon is black. I'm black but idk if it somehow worked differently in Britain??? I'm so American, guys. Gerry is white, long black hair, you know the deal. Martin I like to hc as Looks like the epitome of a white dad acts like the idea white mom but that's just me, and it might change. Feel free to see them as you will!!! Tell me your headcanons please I adore them!!!!!  
> -This fic is kinda silly, It may not make complete sense, and honestly, I could spend a hella long time refining but this is my emotional support fic, only my other fic is allowed to make me cry.  
> -The plot revolves largely around the kids, Cannon characters are Major forces, but their character arcs will be minor, as this fic is exploring how they would be as parents and not who they are, yeah?  
> -My main goal is to blow up, then to mock Jonny's naming conventions HARHARHARHARHARHAR  
> -I think that's it?!?! Enjoy!!

It’s cold on the street for John . He sits curled up in the alleyway. Lodged somewhere between a sandwich shop and a laundromat. The owner was nice enough to let him sit behind the dryers to warm up, but the last customer had just left, and John went out right behind them.

It isn’t bad like this, John thinks, looking up at the snow beginning to fall on top of his head. He pulls out his umbrella. At least he doesn’t have to be inside with his parents wearing sundresses under his sweater to prove something to god. At least, hidden in the bustle of London proper, he can be himself. 

His own, half frozen self. 

John's head falls onto his knees. He has maybe an hour before he truly starts losing feeling in his limbs. The sun speeding toward the horizon doesn’t help, not that it has much effect on London from where it hangs behind the clouds. Jon knows he needs to move, find an actual shelter , but he doesn’t want to. No one would care about yet another kid found frozen on the street, so he can just give up. Stay. The rolling crunch of car wheels over snow sounds from outside the alleyway. Either no one can see him, or everyone chooses not to stop. The sound of foot traffic grows closer.

“Hey.” 

And now he’s hearing things. Great. Amazing. So seeing things in the shadows  _ was  _ the early stages of psychosis. He can’t afford meds. He can barely afford f-

“Hey.” Louder this time. Something nudges John. He looks up to face his delusion.

It's a tall man with hair dyed black in uneven steaks, and an annoyed expression that quickly melts into a smile. He holds a cane loosely in one hand, the offending object in question.

“Need somewhere to stay?”

John knows how this goes. He gathers his stuff to stand, might as well get going now. “Not interested. Thanks.”

“Wait, kid. No. You just seem...lonely.” 

John stares.

“Shit, I’m not making this better am I?” He runs his hand through his hair, and John sees the little eyes tattooed on each of his knuckles. “I don’t think you have an anchor. To, uh, you know. Keep you from getting depressed and shit.  My husband is in social ser- He’s a youth therapist. If you don’t trust me come see him. Please? You’re going to get hypothermia.”

  
  


John turns his options over in his head. He could probably take down a man with a cane, if need be, not that he wants to. But if he has a friend that’ll be a problem. They could be helpful. And even if they are malicious, they’ll be ill-meaning _indoors_. 

“Yeah okay.” John says, pitching his voice down. 

The other man’s face erupts into a smile.  “Thank the eye-- Jesus that’s an expression please don’t think I’m in a cult. Or. Or something.” He sighs, and holds out a hand. “The name’s Gerry.”

Gerry pays for a taxi to take them to the suburbs. It’s a forty minute drive. John’s shoulders creep towards his ears when Gerry reaches to slide into the back seat behind him. Gerry nods quickly, eyes wide, and slips into the front.

“Why were you out in the cold?” he says, sliping a few extra dollars into the cupholder between him and the driver, a stout, cold woman with no interest in small talk. She grumbles a thanks.

“Parents.” John answers. 

“Ah. Wanna go into detail about that?” Gerry rests his chin on his knuckles.

“No.” John answers.

“Great, because I am almost entirely unable to be serious. You’ll wanna talk to Jon. The therapist-- my husband-- yeah.”

“Jon? My name’s John.”

“Great. Another one.” Gerry winces, “Joke! I’m joking sorry. Damn.”

“It’s cool, man. Uh, is he nice? Other-Jon?”

“Please do  _ not _ call them other-Jon. Oh my eye. Martin would have a fit. And uh...No. Not exactly. Kind. Not nice.”

John nods “Who’s Martin?”

“My husband.”

“Your-”

“Yup!”

“Oh…” John grasps at the strings of the conversation “Are they...each other's husbands too? Or just yours?”

Gerry grins. “Each other’s.”

“That’s nice.”

John leans to look out the window as the snow falls thicker. He really dodged a bullet, getting out of the weather in time. He tries to be grateful. It’s always easier with fewer people. Nice couples have treated him pretty well, but groups are always so caught up in each other that they forget he’s there. John thinks about all the times he's snuck out front doors in the middle of the day, and gone to sit at a nearby park just to see if anyone would come looking for him. They never did. Jon could phase right through the window and out into the terrible weather and beyond. Up into the misty clouds and nobody would mis-

“They’re a bit annoying.” Gerry says. John’s eyes clear, and focus on Gerry’s worried face. “Still with me?”

“Yeah.” John whispers.

“Martin’s exercising more now that he doesn’t need a binder.” John's head snaps up, and Gerry smiles at him. “ Jon won’t stop calling him ‘a big boy man’--there’s a lot more to that joke than you’ll understand right now-”

Right now. Like there’ll be a later.

“-But if they give you a headache I have tylenol. Here we are.”

John shakes off the remaining fog in his brain. How long was he zoned out? A worry for another time, he supposes. Gerry reaches for his bag at the same time John does. John nods at the cane, but Gerry waves him off and unfolds his umbrella as he steps out of the Taxi. It’s a family home, too big for even a triad, which means John probably isn’t the first to pass through. That’s a good sign.

Gerry stomps his way through the snow, listening to it crunch under his heavy boots. He stops by the front door to sweep some snow off of the bushes, revealing a tarp. “Good, less to do later.” He says, and hand’s John his bag back before moving to unlock the door.

“Afterno- hey! You should’ve called ahead! I haven’t made any tea.” John kicks the door closed behind him to see a soft-jawed man drop his knitting as he scrambles for the kitchen, mouth moving furiously under his einstein mustache, “Come in! Come in! Take your shoes off, though. Will you need a change of clothes? Are you hungry?”

“One at a time, Martin!” Gerry laughs. “The kid’s dry. I got him in time. And heat up the chili. You eat meat?” he asks.

“Yeah.” John answers, a bit overwhelmed as another, far smaller man in a night-gown descends the staircase, whipping their eyes.

“What’s all this noise?” He asks between yawns.

“As if you don’t Know already.” Gerry rolls his eyes, and Ignores John’s questioning look.

“Jon, Martin, Meet John.”

“Great. Another one.” They groan in unison, and then fall into a fit of laughter.

John can’t help but laugh along.

The small one, Jon, gives Gerry a peck on the cheek, sweeping past John with a hand on the forearm, dipping into the kitchen behind the one who must be Martin. 

“Chili for dinner?”

“You could have just Known that.”

“This is harassment. If I don’t exercise my actual eyes I’m going to go blind.”

John turns to see Martin backhand him playfully. “You know that isn’t true.”

Gerry tugs his shirtsleeve, and leads him down a short hallway. The walls are a warm, fall red. An incense is burning on the high shelf they pass, a shelf stuffed to the brim with little wooden carvings, mostly of eyes. The feeling of warmth wraps around John. 

Gerry pulls open a door and gestures inside. 

“Bathroom’s that door there. This is the guest suite so you got one but you have to keep it clean. The towels and soap and such are already in there. Closet’s there. You see the chest. Come out soon for dinner, yeah?” and with a clap on the shoulder, Gerry goes to leave. “Ah, you’re expected to shower and such. Once a day at least.”

John laughs “Yeah okay!” 

As soon as the door shuts he spins to survey the place. The duvet is thick, its thread count maybe three times his own net worth. John barely stops himself from diving onto it, before he thinks twice.

“Shower. Yeah.”

He fumbles to turn the water on, then pulls back to stare at the two knobs and a lever. One must be...well there’s, ah. Heat and pressure, then. And the switch for a shower or a bath. With that heated up, he goes back to the bedroom. He finds a yellow set out towels in the closet

\---

Jon’s skirt swings around their heels as they walk through the library hallways. They’re much shorter than John, but he’s struggling to keep up. They clutch their clipboard to their chest. Tapping their fingers on the wood in a rolling pattern that speeds up and slows down without warning.

“Pams, I need you to slow down, I already worked out today and I  _ cannot _ do that again.”

“Sorry.” Jon says sharply. He doesn’t mean to be sarcastic, but it happens when he’s nervous.

“Chill, pams, They're mostly harmless. They’re probably just excited to dump their trash onto you.”

Jon smacks him on the arm “Don’t talk about yourself like that. Or I’ll take half your muffin. Or something.” Jon walks to a mirrored wall and fiddles with the streaks of gray erupting from his temples and up into his afro. 

_ Dress to the impression you want to give _ Was one of the first things Jon said to John, right after  _ Fuck the eye, our names are going to be such a headache _ . Currently, Jon was dressed in a way that could only be summarized as angry and liberal. Which suited their purposes just fine.

“Here’s a twenty. You can spend it all if you get something to bring everyone home. There’s a-”

“Saw the bakery, yeah.”

“Observant.” they say. The highest compliment they give. “Yes. Well I’m off to speak to your foul parents.”

“Martin and Gerry are at home.” 

Jon freezes at that, the gears visibility turning in their head. “Do you really see us as- I- I mean I guess we are-” they huff, a smile splitting their furrowed brows in two “Go get your eyedamned muffin, child. We’ll talk about this later.” 

They pull open the door to conference room number three “Now I’m aware there are some things you’d rather not have known about-” And the door shuts between them.

Jon hadn’t outright said blackmail would be involved in getting the adoption papers signed, but it was implied. John sighs, and turns tail, crossing his fingers that he’ll be able to get a latte for under three bucks. Or maybe It’s one of those awesome bakeries that sells it’s baked goods for a dollar each. That would be nice. The smell of cooked berries and flowers hits John as soon as he crosses under the archway aptly titled “Daisy’s Bakery”.

It’s mostly empty, dark brick walls make it feel more like a hobbit-hole than the white stucco of the rest of the library, but the ceiling is comfortably tall. It’s set up with a bar at the front of the room, voices are coming from behind it, somewhere where John can see a wall of syrups, but no one is in sight. Metal tables are sprawled out in the majority of the dining area, but in the back is a little alcove with capsized bookshelves to sit on. Each stacked to the brim of magazines. Outside the windows the plants bloom lushly under spring’s rein.

“Hello?” John calls. Something thuds behind the wall, and someone laughs, voice how and gravely.

“Be right there!” a different girl chuckles.

“I’ll clean up.”

“Thanks.” Brown ringlets appear before a face, then the girl spins around. “How can I help ya!”

John's heart flutters a little bit, his eyes go wide and he turns to the menu above her head so he doesn’t have to look into her eyes. Her stunning eyes. 

“I’ll take a-blueberry-muffin-and-a-blueberry-scone--and-a-plain-scone-and-two -black-coffees-and-a-latte-two-creams.” John takes a big breath in as he tries to push his blush off his face, it shows up brilliantly on his olive skin. It doesn’t help when she recites his whole order to the sped-up tune of twinkle twinkle little star.

“And two creams?”

“Yeah.”

“That’ll be 25 on the nose.” 

John curses “Sorry, no coffees then. I only have a twenty.”

She waves him off. “No worries. You’re new around here?”

John lights up “Yeah, actually! I’m moving in with my dads today. Officially. Starting school next week.”

“Brownside high?” She asks, voice growing to an embarrassing volume “Junior?”

“Yeah!”

“Hell yeah Dude!” She hollers “Daisy! I got a new classmate! He’s super cute!”

John sputters.

A woman, apparently Daisy, pops her head out from the kitchen to get a look. She's big enough to crush him. Jon is still growing, but  _ still _ . Her arms are  _ huge _ . But her cool smile makes her seem harmless enough.

“He is!”

“That’s my step-ma.” The girl explains “And I’m Elizabeth. If you sign up for the advanced classes we can study together and stuff! I don’t have many friends here but I’m sure they’ll like to meet you lemme see-” She opens and shuts a few drawers before triumphantly holding up a pen.

She writes her number on the back of his receipt, and John just  _ knows _ he looks like a tomato. 

“T-thanks.” He stutters.

As she dances, quite literally dances, away to get his food, Jon feels someone pinch his side.

“Made a new friend?” Jon asks.

“I-um.”

Jon’s eyes widen as they take in the blush on the kids--their son’s--face. 

“Oh. Oh do you-” He drops his voice to a ridiculously low whisper “Do you find her attractive?”

“Pams!”

“Is that a yes?”

\---

The row of single crochets is kicking John’s ass. Elizabeth told him crochet is fun, and it is when you’re doing cool, complicated stuff, but he has to build another foundation row and-

A knock.

“What’s up?”

Martin pushes his head through the crack in the door. “How’s it going kiddo?”

“Not great. Gets repetitive and then, well, I skipped  _ five _ stitches.”

Martin winces sympathetically. “That’s why I don’t crochet, since Knitting is clearly superior.”

“Oh, shut it old man.” John laughs, throwing a pillow at Martin. He misses horribly.

“Well if you’re gonna be like that I guess you don’t want ice cream.”

A pause.

“Sorry? Please!”

Martin laughs “Of course. Put your shoes on, I’ll be in the car.” 

Gerry and Pams are nowhere to be seen as John throws on a jumper and makes his way down the hall. The clock says it’s 11 pm, so they’re probably in bed. 

_ Johninator9000: Do *your* parents take you out at nearly midnight for ice cream? [Img attached] _

_ Pizzabeth: Oh shut up. And stop looking so smug. _

_ Pizzabeth: Bring me some? _

John laughs as he slides into the passenger seat, buckling up quickly and plugging the aux chord into his phone. Martin wrinkles his nose as he turns the key in the ignition.

“Don’t be like that. Gerry likes my music!”

“I’ve seen Gerry nod off to slip-knot. It isn’t bad. Just...loud.”

“...Fine. I’ll play something calmer.”

Martin smiles, before turning to pull out of the driveway.

The roads at this time of night are serenely empty. John sees the ice cream truck pulled up and locked in someone’s driveway just as it always is when it isn’t making rounds, and the swings on the playground sway invitingly in the cool summer wind. Martin is staring. 

“Yeah?” John says “Martin, please look at the road you’re freaking me out.”

“Sorry.” Martin grips the steering wheel “ So, Icecream?”

“I’m always yes-icecream... dad.” 

Martin Sputters “ _ Dad? _ ”

“Yeah. I figured that I call Jon pams.... And Gerry’s always just gonna be Gerry. He’s like… three years older than me. But you’re  _ such _ a dad.”

“I’ll pull over and you can get out of my car.” Martin deadpans. “I’m  _ not _ married to some college kid.”

John chuckles “But really, What’s up? I haven’t seen you this nervous since the time 

You had to tell Pams you were looking after a friend’s tarantula.”

Martin doesn’t laugh, instead taking a deep breath as he pulls into the drive-through line “So how’d you feel about a little brother?”

...

“a wut.”

“A brother? Another kid….In the house? Much younger than you, I’m afraid.” Martin run’s his hand on the back of his neck, before he see’s John’s shit-eating grin and smiles back.

“Really?”

“Yeah! His name is Carlile. The agency called us. Thought we’d be a good fit. We were gonna ask you over breakfast but Jon couldn’t sleep. They told me I couldn’t get back in bed until I had an answer.” Martin sighs fondly “So?”

“Yes! Yes!--Also can we get Elizabeth ice cream too? She likes mint-chip--When do I get to meet him? Is he chill?”

Martin gives John, who’s practically vibrating in his seat, a wary look. “Hi, yes, I’d like a…”

John slurps on his shake “So is he chill?”

“Carlile is a child. I don’t think any of them have  _ chill _ .”

John gasps “I have chill!”

“Mmm, Jon was there when you met Elizabeth, I’d disagree--Ow! No hitting!”

“Let a dude have a crush in peace!”

Martin wrinkles his nose again “ _ Girls. _ ” He says as he pulls up to Daisy’s place. 

John hops out, holding a cup of mint chip and laughing his ass off. 

\---

Carlile is everything John feared he’d be. 

“Why is the child in a suit?” he whispers to Jon as the judge reads off something legal. Gerry’s on his phone, so John figures he’s allowed to not pay attention for this part.

“He insisted. He said he wants to ‘look like we take good care of him’.” Jon chuckles “ I shouldn’t be allowed around kids.”

“It really is a shame you’re giving us taste.” John deadpans.

Gerry holds his phone to his ear as across the room Carlile speaks into the Gizmo bracelet on his wrist.

“How are you doing over there?” Gerry whispers.

“Good!” Carlile responds, loud enough to make him wince “I miss youuuu.”

“Miss you too, bud.”

“Is he…” John starts “I mean, is he always gonna hate me?”

Jon squeezes his hand. “He’s your little brother. He doesn’t hate you, and he won’t hate you. It’s just gonna seem like that for a while.”

“But at breakfast-”

“Kids don’t like vegetables, as a rule. Anything he’s says under the influence of gross food should not be held against him-” Jon leans forward and raises his eyebrows politely when He’s addressed, saying yes ma’am and no ma’am, I have ma’am and I swear ma’am to the judge until she moves on to scrutinize Martin.

Gerry and Carlile are playing rock paper scissors across the room. 

It goes by in the quick-blur that happens in John’s head when he’s forced to sit still and pretend to know what’s going on. The tie itches his neck a little. It sucks. And then there are pictures, and Carlile is squirming like a basilisk in water as he’s clipped into his car seat.

“So-if-I-have-three-daddies-now-I-Can’t-call-them-all-daddy-or-everyone-will-get-confused-right-John?”

John nods seriously. “Right, they’ll need code names.”

“Naaawht code names.” Carlile insists, as if the idea was outrageous “Code names are only when I play spies with Gerry. Right Gerry?”

Gerry hums his approval, too focused on the thumb-war occupying Carlile’s other hand.

“Well I call that one Pams.” John points. Carlile doesn’t like the fact that they have the same name. He insists that Jon has a secret name he’s hiding. And that “The Archivist” is a made up name too.

Jon turns back and waves.

“Pams.” Carlile nods.

“And I call Martin dad.”

Martin makes a half turn from the road and smiles, before turning back.

“Nuh uh.” Carlile says firmly, He crosses his arms and Gerry grumbles something about winning. “He’s papa.”

“Oh!” Martin says “O-Okay!”

“Martin’s always wanted to be a papa. Right, Darling?” Jon says, Martin has to focus hard on the road as they plant a kiss on his cheek. 

“Well the most you’re getting out of me is Pops, Pops.” John says.

“And Gerry will be-”

  
“Just Gerry, thanks. You can call me dad once I’m old.”

“You’re thirty.” Martin says.

“For one and a half months longer I am  _ in my late twenties _ .”

“Alright, Gerry.” Carlile says, with an exaggerated, unbelieving look.

They laugh.

\---

The living room is comfortable, with the curtains thrown open to view the rain and the electric fireplace is turned on. Martin is Knitting and John is crocheting. They send each other dirty looks as they have a silent battle of speed. Martin, the senior by a decade or two, is winning by far, but John has the confidence that makes it seem even. 

“Pammy told me to come in here!” Carlile announces, dropping unceremoniously onto Martin’s lap. Earning an ‘Oof’ from pops. 

“Did he now?” Martin wheezes. He puts his knitting aside and checks his phone (John keeps crocheting, all is fair in love and war) “Well, it’s four like we agreed.”

“Alright.”

Jon and Gerry enter next, taking their usual spots on the couch leaning into Martin. They look like an absolute tableau of family. 

“Cat’s cradle?” Carlile asks, wiggling enough to pull the string out of his pocket.

“Not right now, bud. Right now we all need to talk okay?”

“...okay.” 

Gerry takes a deep breath, and grabs both of Carlile’s hands lightly in his own.

“Alright Carl. You know how you have asthma, and need medicine to breathe better?” 

Carl nods.

“And how you can’t eat eggs or you’ll get sick?”

“Mhm! And eggs are icky anyways so it doesn’t matter. But I need a special cake!” 

“Exactly. Well I have something called epilepsy. Can you say that?”

He guides Carlile through the pronunciation.

“It’s important that you know this, because sometimes I have seizures. My body can do a lot of things that might be scary. Sometimes I fall, so I carry my cane just in case. I also take special medicine, and eat special food so it doesn’t happen so much. Just like you!”

Carl nods enthusiastically, and Gerry looks relieved.

Martin Pipes up “You know how to use your bracelet to call us, right? Well if you and Gerry are alone and he falls and gets hurt, I need you to find an adult if you can, preferably us or your brother, and if you can’t find anyone call 9-1-1, okay?”

Carlisle eyes go wide, and tears start to form. You never call 9-1-1 unless really bad things happen, “Will You be okay?” he wail, clambering over Martins lap to reach for Gerry.

“Yes, shhh, yes.” Gerry accepts a hug and plants kisses all over Carlile’s face. “I’ll be alright. This is just what we have to do to keep everyone safe, okay? You brother knows all about it, he’ll help you out.”

Carl nods, and gives John two thumbs up. 

“Okay! Up Up, kiddo.” Carlile hops off Gerry’s lap only to climb right back onto Martin’s.

“Alright, John!” Gerry says, stretching his arms over his head “Let’s put that testosterone to good use, ey? Come see if you can carry my weight.”

While John and Gerry do a couple of drills, Jon let’s Carlile fiddle with the timer they and Gerry carry on them.

“Let’s time how long it takes you to find your teddy bear!”

“Mr.Schmucks.”

Jon laughs “Let’s see how long it takes you to find Mr.Schmucks. Now, this isn’t a toy, but we can get you one if you’d like.”

Once Carlile is finished timing how long it takes everyone to run up and down the hallway, Martin calls them in for supper. 

“This is the food Gerry always eats.” Martin Explains as he hoists Carlile up onto a chair and tucks a napkin into his shirt. Because Carlile stains  _ everything _ . “You know what a hamburger is, but this one doesn’t have a bun. And this cheese is called  _ brie.  _ It’s veeery creamy. And you like avocado.”

“Freesh AvaCahdooo!” Carlile exclaims.

John’s eyes go wide as his Pam’s eyes zero in on him “I did not teach him that! I swear to the eye--whatever that is--I did not! Gerry looks awfully guilty.”

Gerry is, in fact, guilty.

They talk about the usual over dinner. Elizabeth’s family is taking a small vacation in the country. Gerry hasn’t sold any pieces this week, but he’s just gotten quite a large commission. He’s a year from paying off his student loans, and art school  _ did _ work,  _ mom _ . Martin tactfully steers the conversation away from his job, He might have enough collected poetry to publish soon. Many of Jon’s patients are doing well, yes, he might be able to take a week off soon, yes. Yes, they can plan on a vacation soon. Yes, It can be Daisy’s cottage if she agrees. Elizabeth can come along....maybe.

At some point, Carlile squirming and sniffling have gone from normal to pointed. Jon cocks an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“IIIII was just thinking.” Carl smacks his lips. “That that smells very good.”

He points a small finger at Gerry, who, by his expression, did not expect to be a part of this conversation.

He swallows, “My coffee?”

Carl bobs his head. Everyone but Carl shares a look.

“...Would you like to try some?” John ventures, trying to keep a grin off his face.

Carl nods faster, and little thump, thump, thump, sounds come from under the table as he kicks his chair.

“Please and thank you!”

Gerry laughs and stands to pour a sips-worth into a kiddy cup.

Carlile, ever the dramatic one, makes eye contact with each eager face before he takes a sip. 

“Bleh!” he says “Bleh bleh bleh!”

\---

Carlile holds the umbrella for Martin from where he sits on Martin's shoulders.

“Too light,” Martin tuts “You need to eat more salmon.”

“You sound just like my grandmother,” Jon says.

“There is  _ nothing _ wrong with being skinny.” Gerry prods their shins with his cane.

“You do  _ not _ count, you're medically required to avoid carbs.”

“Well yeah, but-”

“You’re skinny too, pammy.” Carlile points out.

Jon puts a hand on their chest, their mouth forming an “O” of exaggerated offense. They hike up their skirt to walk in front of the group, shaking their head, and hold the door open for everyone to pass.

Gerry and John stop to watch the other two enter the hospital, making sure Carlile won’t hit his head on the top of the door. Both he and Martin have to bend down to manage it.

“How’s your girlfriend? Thanks.” Gerry asks as Jon takes the door for him.

“Elizabeth is good! Real excited. She loved meeting Carl.”

“You're not freaking out this time? Not worried They’ll hate you?”

“Nah. They’re babies, they're guaranteed to hate me in some regard.”

Gerry chuckles. 

“Alright, babe.” He says, Joining Martin in placing his hand on the Small of Jon’s back, and then a quick kiss on his cheek. “Go get our girls.”

Jon steels himself and walks up to the front desk of the maternity unit. The receptionist listens earnestly, and then calls in a nurse, who walks quickly and shuffles her hands together.

“The mother….Rather not…Only one...I’m so sorry... I’ll get her.” a nurse informs them.

Jon turns back to their family solemnly, before following the Nurse down the hall.

Martin and Gerry share a worried look.

“What did that mean?” John asks frantically.”Hey! What was that?”

“Shh.” Martin says “It's better not to guess. Let’s just wait and see what happens.”

“Are the babies going to be okay?” Carlile whispers to his brother, barely loud enough to hear. John squeezes his hand, and doesn’t respond.

It’s only a few minutes before Jon returns, smiling at the small cooing bundle in their arms. 

“Hello Agnes.” they say, offering their pinky finger. Agnes grips it tight. A hush falls over the family as John quickly stands to offer them a seat in the center of everyone. Agnes’s hair is a fiery red, just as expected, and her eyes are a warm brown. 

Carlile leans dangerously far in Martin’s arms to get a good look. He studies her with a pouted lip, before nodding to himself. Baby approved, and whatnot. John has no idea what just went through the kid’s head, but that isn’t his biggest concern right now.

“Where is her sister?” he whispers.

“She didn’t make it. But that’s okay. We have Agnes now.” Jon offers a watery smile. “We’ll be okay. Come. Sit, and you can hold her.”

“Can I hold her?” Carlile asks.

“In a while you can, but not today. We need to be very careful. Okay?” Jon answers.

“What you  _ can _ do” Gerry says “Is help me get everything Pam needs for the baby while they aren’t working. Okay? It’ll be our mission!”

Carlile nods. He likes missions.


End file.
